


The (Haunting) Blessing of Wayne Manor

by iamfitzwilliamdarcy



Series: qui coepit in vobis opus bonum (Father Todd AU) [6]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Damian Bruce and Dick all make appearances, Fr. Todd AU, Gen, Jason Todd is a Priest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 12:03:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16325873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamfitzwilliamdarcy/pseuds/iamfitzwilliamdarcy
Summary: Tim is convinced a demon has moved into the Wayne Manor; Jason decides it's past time Wayne Manor is blessed.(Set in Catie's Fr. Todd AU)





	The (Haunting) Blessing of Wayne Manor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catie_writes_things](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catie_writes_things/gifts).



> It's Catie's birthday!!! Happy birthday Catie!!! This story is set in her Fr. Todd AU, in which Jason is a priest (this makes the most sense of anything ever so we roll with it.

“I think there’s a demon in the Mansion,” Tim says, and Jason doesn’t look up from the Halloween lesson notes he’s preparing for the elementary and middle-schoolers at the school Dominic’s been assigned to.

“You can’t keep calling Damian that,” he says absently, starring a place he thinks can reword. 

“You’re the one who started it,” Tim says sullenly. Jason looks up when he shifts in his chair, and frowns. Tim’s face is twisted and serious, and though he clutches the mug of coffee Jason’s made for him, he hasn’t taken a sip of it at all. He looks tired, not strictly unusual, but pale also. 

Jason snaps his notebook shut and gives Tim his full attention. “I was just there last week for dinner,” he prompts. “Nobody mentioned anything abnormal.”

“Bruce thinks I’m being suspicious,” Tim admits, and Jason can tell that stings. “I think Dick is starting to come around, but he didn’t believe me at first either--” just a hint of bitterness, bygones of Dick’s Batman days--”and who the hell knows what Damian thinks. Cass agrees though,” he adds as if that’s all that matters. The two of them, through thick and thin.

“Have you been spending the night at the Mansion?” Jason asks, surprised. Since moving back in with Cass, he’d figured Tim, who had a bad habit of withdrawal, had been keeping mostly to himself. He made sure to keep his appointments, like his weekly coffee or brunch get together with Jason, but, when not patrolling, stayed holed up in his apartment. 

It’s part of why Bruce approves the living arrangements-- _ someone _ ’s keeping an eye on him. 

Tim shrugs. “Late patrols, working a case, Cass is in Hong Kong.  _ Anyway _ ,” he adds pointedly, like that’s  _ not  _ the point, “the point is, there’s  _ something _ . It started in my old room and I think it’s moved to the sitting room.”

“Unhelpful,” Jason says. “There’s a million sitting rooms.”

Tim eyes him. “The  _ only  _ sitting room that matters.  _ You  _ know.” 

Jason laughs. He does know, it’s essentially Tim’s sitting room at this point, though Jason favors it too when he comes to visit--it has the best natural light in the Manor, great for naps for someone like Tim, who, cat-like, seeks out sunny spots of solitude. 

Tim still looks troubled though, and Jason sighs. “I’ll talk with the pastor,” he says. “And I’ll come by and bless the Manor.” He pauses, thoughtful, and adds, “That’d be a good thing to do anyway.”

“You think sprinkling some water will work?” Tim asks skeptically.

“Hey, you came to me,” Jason reminds him. 

Tim chews on his lip. “How long?”   
“Probably tomorrow,” Jason says. He’s torn--ordinarily he’d suggest confession for the sacramental graces, but only Bruce and Dick had ever been baptized Catholic (and Jason’s not even sure about Dick). Tim, neglected in more ways than one, has never been exposed much to religion outside of an academic context at all. And Damian...well he’s a special case. 

Instead, Jason impulsively he reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a Rosary. He drops it gently into Tim’s cupped hand, saying, “Here, take this.”

Tim stares down at it. “I don’t know what to do with it,” he admits.

Jason bites down on the suggestion that he ask Bruce--Tim would take it as a dismissal, even if Jason definitely doesn’t mean it that way. Instead, he starts, “The big bead is the Our Father, and then the next ones are the Hail Marys, see it’s a decade, and after ten Hail Marys comes the Glory Be and the Fatima Prayer.” He goes over each prayer with Tim, who is absorbing it all, and then sends him off with a reminder that Bruce, though rusty, knows all the prayers if Tim forgets.

Tim gives him a glare, knowing what Jason is half-suggesting, but he says, “Thanks,” softly and is on his way. 

Jason comes by the Manor the next day, armed with a prayer book and holy water. The pastor has been called away for a hospital visit, and Dominic is on retreat with his middle schoolers, so Jason is left by himself. 

Damian sniffs haughtily when he sees Jason. “I expected more tools for Drake’s exorcism,” he says.

“I’m not an exorcist,” Jason reminds him. It’s a conversation he’s had frequently with his brothers, who, after discovering the diocese exorcist is kept secret, have decided, firmly, that it must be Jason. “And no one would perform an exorcism here,” he adds for good measure. 

Damian grumbles something and leaves just as Bruce comes into the foyer to greet Jason. Jason returns his hug, but eyes him disapprovingly. “You should know better than to dismiss Tim like that,” he says softly. “Especially over a spiritual matter. You’re not a skeptic.”

Bruce’s brow furrows, but he accepts the scolding. 

“Okay,” Jason amends. “You’re a detective, so you question, but you’ve seen too much to doubt the reality of a demon.”

“That’s fair,” Bruce agrees.

Jason waits a beat, and then adds, “And he’s the one who always believed you were alive. He found you.” 

Bruce nods in acknowledgement.  “Tim and I have already talked,” he says. There’s an implication Bruce apologized, and Jason is glad. He’s getting better at that. Jason’s always a little surprised when Bruce just  _ listens  _ to him these days. 

Bruce’s mouth slants down, not quite a frown. “I’ve been worried about him, but I think seeing you yesterday helped. He seems...almost excited about the blessing. Intrigued.”

Jason’s lips quirk up. “He’ll be disappointed. This isn’t an exorcism, as I keep telling Damian.”

Bruce laughs a little. “Cassie will be back from Hong Kong soon, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you got a call from them to come bless the apartment.”

Jason shrugs. “I should’ve done it ages ago.”

“Well come in,” Bruce says, gesturing, but Jason says, “I think it’d be best to be thorough and start here.”

Bruce nods. “I’ll get Tim,” he says. “And round up the others.”

“Other than Damian?” Jason asks, and Bruce shrugs. “Dick has been in and out.” 

He returns with Tim, no Dick or Damian, but he’s also brought along Alfred, who offers Jason a pat on the shoulder and water bottle; Jason accepts both gratefully. 

Tim still looks pale, but he grins at Jason, who says, “We’ll lets get started. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit…” 

They work their way methodically through the Manor, Jason finding prayer passages for rooms he didn’t even know still existed. (He realizes it’s a  _ mansion  _ but  _ why  _ does there have to be a ballroom? He mentally says an extra prayer there, thinking of children subjected to boredom at galas while adults hunt for iniquity in the name of charity; he says an extra prayer in the library as well because the smart asses of this house, himself included, could use some actual Wisdom sometimes). Damian joins them somewhere along the way, lurking behind them and acting disinterested, even though he’s definitely listening.

They pick up Dick along the way, too. Jason focuses on the prayers and the blessings, but it doesn’t escape his notice that Dick slips an arm around Tim and whispers something in his ear that makes Tim smile, even as he shushes him. He even crosses himself a few times, right to left, and Jason files that away because did he know Dick was raised Orthodox? (Eastern Rite, maybe? He definitely didn’t know.)

When they reach the sitting room, Tim flinches. There is a drastic drop in temperature, and even Jason shivers.  It’s not like Tim to be afraid, though, and he takes a few steps into the room after Jason, whispers, “It’s in here.” 

Jason nods, and flips his book to pray the sitting room prayers, and, when done, sprinkles the holy water, three times, In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. 

Then he’s done with that, and they continue. It’s a while before the whole Mansion is blessed, and Bruce even lets him bless the Cave, where he finally concludes, blessing his entire family,  _ In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.  _

When he’s done, he takes a long drink of water from the bottle Alfred’s provided. He’s taken sips throughout the blessing, but the blessing has still left him thirst. He wants to catch Dick, gently suggest to him that Tim might still be harboring some hurt from Dick’s time as Batman, but before he can, Dick drags Tim off to the computer, and Bruce, brow furrowing suspiciously, follows him. Perhaps Dick realizes that, or maybe he just feels guilty about being dismissive of Tim initially. Jason doesn’t give his older brother enough credit, sometimes, but he does resolve to bring it up, along with Dick’s religious background, next time Dick stops by the rectory. 

Alfred retreats too, to finish dinner, a pointed look at Jason that tells him he’s staying and will be returning with food for Dominic and his pastor. Jason smiles back, but before he realizes it, he’s alone with Damian, who, with arms crossed tightly against his chest, dog firmly at his side, clearly wants to talk. Jason waits. 

“Could my grandfather--,” Damian starts, not looking at Jason. 

“Maybe a curse or something,” Jason answers, shrugging. “It’s not unheard of. But,” he adds, gently, “the Manor is very old. There’s a lot of trauma here, too. I couldn’t say for sure where it may have come from.”  

He pauses, frowning at the boy, and then ventures, “You know your grandfather isn’t actually a demon, don’t you? He’s a man who’s prolonged his life artificially.”

“No,” Damian corrects. “The Lazarus Pit--,”

“I don’t mean through modern medication or anything like that,” Jason interrupts gently. “I just mean we’re not supposed to live that long. Death is natural. Immortality is not; he’s cheating death. It doesn’t matter what he calls himself, it doesn’t change the nature of what he is, and that’s a man and a mortal.” 

“And a coward?” Damian asks, and Jason’s mouth twists. Whatever Damian might say, Ra’s Al Ghul is still his family. 

“That’s not for me to decide,” he says quietly, finally. “But I would caution anyone about fearing death of the flesh more than death of the soul.” 

Damian hums, then says, clipped, “Thank you, Todd,” and Jason breathes a sigh of relief that this conversation has gone better than the one they’d had last month regarding animals’ souls and whether or not they go to heaven. 

Jason stays for dinner, and, as predicted, is plied with numerous tupperwares of food for him for the week and for Fr. Dominic and Fr. Paul, his pastor.

“The parishioners will think you don’t appreciate them,” he teases Alfred, as he accepts. Alfred sniffs a little and says that that is hardly his intent, but he returns Jason’s kiss on the cheek with a fond hand pat, and several more slices of bread. 

Jason says his goodbyes, and Tim hops up, ostensibly to help him carry the tupperware to his car. When they’re outside, though, Tim says, earnestly, “Thanks for believing me, Jay.”

Jason catches his hand and squeezes it. “If it doesn’t go away, you know where to find me. We have a process.”

Tim’s eyes glint mischievously as he shakes his head and mutters “Catholics.”

“Hey,” Jason says, lightly, “if you’re jealous, it’s not too late to join us.”

Tim snorts, but when Jason tells him to bow his head, he does. Jason gives him another blessing. After he’s finished the Sign of the Cross, Jason snags Tim around the neck and rubs his knuckles against his hair.

“Hey!” Tim protests, batting at Jason’s hands and trying to wriggle away from the unexpected nougie attack. “I was trying to be  _ reverent _ !”

“Aren’t we all, kid,” Jason laughs, releasing him. He gives him a little push towards the Manor. “Go get some sleep, Tim, you look like death.”

“ _ Memento Mori _ ,” Tim quips solemnly, rubbing at his head. He flashes Jason a grin, though, and heads back inside. 

Jason stands for a minute beside his car, looking up at the Manor and the grounds sprawling behind it. It’s dark and imposing at night, but Jason knows the depth of warmth and love inside. It wells up inside him now, too, and says a little prayer of Thanksgiving, before returning home to the rectory. 


End file.
